


Affinity

by ariel2me



Series: Drabble/Ficlet Collection [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-01-13 20:11:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1239286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariel2me/pseuds/ariel2me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Shireen/Devan drabbles.</p><p>Chapter 6: For the prompt: “I don’t want to be the sister you never had.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Shireen/Devan, first** **kiss**

“I’m bored,” Edric declared. “It’s too easy to find Patchface. Let’s play another game.”

“I must go, Princess Shireen. His Grace must be looking for me,” Devan said.

“He won’t. Not yet. This is still our lesson time, remember?” Shireen replied. Maester Pylos had ended their lesson early, to attend to some urgent letters, he had said. Shireen turned her attention to Edric. “What game do you have in mind, Edric?”

Edric smiled. “The kissing game.”

Shireen and Devan both looked puzzled. “The kissing game?” They asked in unison.

Edric looked at them indulgently, as if it did not surprise him in the least that they were clueless about the game. “My father the king mentioned it in one of his letters, the letter he sent with my last nameday present.”

 _Princess Shireen’s father is the king now_. It was on the tip of Devan’s tongue to say this, but he resisted.

“So you have never played the game yourself?” Shireen asked.

Edric looked offended. “Of course I have!”

“You have?” Shireen asked, her eyes as huge as saucers. “Who did you play it with?”

“Just some girls at Storm’s End,” Edric replied vaguely. “Should I tell you how to play the game?” He went on to explain, at length, before Shireen or Devan could reply.

There was a long silence after Edric completed his explanation. Devan was looking at his feet. This was not a game he should be playing, certainly not with the king’s daughter and the king’s nephew. King Stannis might have allowed Devan to take his lessons with them, but …

 _Remember your place, Devan_. His mother’s words were always in his mind.

Devan made up his mind. “I must see if His Grace has need of me,” he said, making a move to leave.

“No, stay. It’s no fun with only two people playing,” Edric said.

“Patchface can play too,” Devan replied, and then immediately realized what a foolish notion that was. Edric looked horrified. “Patchface can’t play! He’s … he’s … he’s _old_. This is a game for children.”

Devan had never really thought of Patchface as being old, exactly. But he certainly was not a child, even if his mind was like a child’s mind.

“Patches wouldn’t want to play this game,” Shireen said. “He doesn’t like being touched.” And there was no arguing with that. Shireen was the expert when it came to her fool. Edric and Devan took her words as irrefutable truth.

“If you stay, I will let you play first,” Edric told Devan, smiling brightly.

“There should be another girl,” Shireen said. “If I had a sister …” she whispered under her breath, but Devan heard her.

“It doesn’t matter,” Edric said. “When I played it at Storm’s End, I was the only boy, with four girls.”

Shireen and Devan both considered this, silently.

“Well? Are we going to play or not?” Edric asked impatiently.

Shireen whispered in Devan’s ear. “Let’s just play the game and make him happy. I heard Edric crying in his room last night. He must be missing his home. He doesn’t like to look sad in front of other people, but I know he’s sad.”

A kiss on the cheek. Or the forehead, Devan thought. He’s seen grown-ups doing that, not just mothers and fathers kissing their children, but husbands kissing their wives. He directed his lips towards Shireen’s forehead, since he did not know which cheek she would rather be kissed, but Shireen was suddenly standing on tiptoe and now her mouth was level with his. Devan could hear Edric giggling. “Come on, what are you waiting for?”

_No, we can’t. What if someone sees us? What if … what if King Stannis sees us?_

“Father doesn’t like Aegon’s Garden. He would never come here,” Shireen whispered, as if she knew what Devan was thinking. Before Devan could think of a reply, Shireen had moved forward and their lips met. Devan was aware of nothing else; he saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing, except her.

Except Shireen.

“Your breath smelled like lemon,” Shireen said, when their lips finally parted. “Did Father make you drink lemon water too?”

Devan blushed. He wondered how Shireen could look so composed, so … normal. Had she kissed a boy before?

“My turn,” Edric announced.

But when they kissed, Shireen and Edric, it was only a fond peck on the cheek, Edric kissing Shireen’s cheek, the one unmarred by the remnants of her greyscale. Devan was both surprised and relieved, although he would never admit to feeling the latter.

Edric must have seen Devan’s look of surprise, for as they were walking away, he clapped Devan’s back, hard, and said, with a laugh, “I didn’t think you would really do it. But you did! You kissed Shireen.”

“ _I_ kissed Devan,” Shireen said. “And I liked it. Anyway, that’s the rule of the game. Father said we must always follow the rules. Why didn’t you follow the rules?”

“Because we’re cousins. I love you like a sister, and brothers and sisters should not kiss,” Edric replied. Shireen nodded, satisfied with the answer.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Shireen/Devan, baby’s first step**

“She’s going to fall,” Devan fretted.

“She’s not. I’m holding her, see?”

“Why do you think little Cassana has not taken a step on her own?”

“She will, when she’s good and ready,” Shireen replied, making faces at her daughter. Cassana laughed.

“Your father said perhaps we should be concerned. Cassana’s first nameday was three moons ago.“

Shireen sighed. “I love my father, but he is hardly an expert on babies. He had but the one, and he was away in King’s Landing when I took my first step."

 Cassana was making gurgling noises to catch her parent's attention. They smiled at her encouragingly. 

Shireen continued. "Your mother, who has raised seven sons, told me that every child is different. Your brother Allard took his first step two moons shy of his first nameday, but Stanny did not start walking until he was almost two. Yet they both grew up healthy and strong.”

And yet only one was still living. Shireen regretted her words when she saw the cloud passing over Devan’s face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned Allard.”

Devan shook his head. “No, I was just thinking that Allard was always in a hurry about everything. As if having been born the second son, he was trying to catch up to Dale every day of his life.” He smiled. “We  _should_  talk about Allard. And Dale, Matthos and Maric. I want Cassana to grow up knowing about her uncles.”

“Unc!” Cassana declared, her head bobbing up and down.

Her parents laughed. “No, dearest.  _Uncle_ ,” Devan said. “ _Uncle_.”

But Cassana had lost interest in the word. She was more interested in trying to cram her fist into her mouth, the baby new favorite pastime. But then something seemed to catch her interest. She started squirming under her mother’s hold, her feet tap-tapping the floor.

“Do you want to go to your father?” Cassana asked. “Let’s go to Father.”

It was only a few steps to reach Devan. Shireen held her daughter’s waist as the little girl tottered unsteadily forward.

 _Let go of her. As long as you keep holding her, she will never learn to walk on her own_. Shireen could almost hear her own father’s accusing voice. But she  _had_  let go, had done so on Cassana’s nameday. The screams and the cries of the fallen little girl still haunted Shireen’s dreams.

_It was too soon. Cassana was not ready._

_It is still too soon now._

Was it? She had felt Cassana chafing at her mother’s restraining hands for weeks now, wanting to move faster. Shireen’s eyes sought Devan. He nodded. Relaxing her grip on Cassana, Shireen watched as the little girl maintained her balance. Finally, she let go.

_We can catch her if she falls, we’re close enough, this time._

Cassana did not fall. But she did not move forward either, looking uncertainly at her mother, and then her father. Her lower lip was quivering, a precursor to crying, usually.

Devan smiled and held out his hands. “Come here, my brave girl.”

Shireen nodded encouragingly to her little girl.

It took five steps for Cassana to reach her father, each new step steadier than the last. Devan had his arms wide open to receive his daughter, but Cassana did not stop to embrace her father. She continued walking towards the door. Shireen grasped her husband’s hand and held on to it, tight, as they watched Cassana’s progress towards the door.

Cassana stopped at the threshold, her tiny finger pointing at a figure beyond the doorway. “Stanny!”Cassana announced proudly to her parents.

Devan turned his face away to hide a laugh. “No, that’s not Stanny, that’s Grandfather,” Shireen said, trying to suppress a giggle herself. Her father, who had never been called Stanny by anyone,  _ever_. He would be mortified to be called Stanny by his granddaughter.

 “Uncle Stanny will come and visit you soon,” Devan told his daughter, when she was finally in his embrace.  


	3. Chapter 3

**Shireen** **/Devan, Shireen’s coronation**

She was crowned on the steps of the Great Sept of Baelor. The crown Shireen had chosen for herself had once belonged to her father, a red-gold crown with flamed-shaped points encircling it.

“Do you want to be queen?” Devan had asked Shireen the night before her coronation.

Shireen raised an eyebrow. “It’s a bit late for you to be asking me that question, isn’t it?”

“It’s never too late, Your Grace.”

“And what would you do, if I say that I do not wish to be queen? Will you sweep me off my feet and smuggle me to the Free Cities so we can live happily ever after?”

“If that is your command, Your Grace, then I will obey it. I am your sworn shield, sworn to protect you with my life.”

“You should have asked me that question years before, when my father died. Before we continued the fight. Before too many have died.”

“I did. You told me then it was treachery to your father’s memory to even consider the question.”

“It is not about wants. It is about duty.”

“Those were your father’s words,” Devan pointed out.

“Yes. What of it?”

“You are not your father, Your Grace.”

“I know. I’m beginning to realize that more and more every day.”

Devan was stricken. “I did not mean that as a slight. You are yourself, Shireen Baratheon, a victor of war, a woman, a queen, whatever else you wish to be. You are not just Stannis Baratheon’s daughter.”

Shireen moved closer towards Devan, their faces inches apart. “I know you did not mean it as a slight, Devan,” she said softly. “Do you know what sets me apart the most from my father? All these years of war and fighting, I have finally realized the truth. I want to sit on that throne. I want to be queen. I know I would make a better ruler for my people than the other contenders. It was not duty forcing my hand and binding my feet to continue the fight.”

“I’m glad,” Devan said. “I’m glad that we … your father’s men … had not pushed you into continuing the fight against your true wishes.”

“They are my men now,” Shireen reminded him.

“Yes, we are your men, Your Grace.”

“Do you think my father would have been disappointed? That it was not solely duty driving my actions?”

Devan suspected that Stannis Baratheon had been a more complicated man than one solely driven by duty. Stannis was a human being with wants and needs - albeit one who was perhaps more adept than others in sublimating his own wants and needs - but still possessing of them nonetheless. But that was only Devan’s innermost suspicion, something he was not comfortable voicing out to others. In the end, he told Shireen, ”Your father would never be disappointed that his heir is sitting on the Iron Throne.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Shireen/Devan, High School AU**

“Did you tell him about tonight?”

“Who?”

“Mr Baratheon.”

 Shireen smiled. “Listen to you.  _Mr Baratheon_. My dad, you mean.”

Who also happened to be Devan’s English teacher and debate team coach, but who’s counting? “Yeah, your dad. Does he know we’re planning to see a movie tonight?”

Shireen shrugged. “I guess. I told my mom. She must have told him.”

Her parents told each other everything. Recipe for a less-than-happy relationship, Shireen suspected, considering the state of her parents’ marriage. There  _is_ such a thing as too much honesty and too many unvarnished truths and straight talks in a relationship.

And her father could be less than … well, _diplomatic_  with his words, let’s leave it diplomatically at that.

“I don’t think I can go, Shireen,” Devan was saying, looking apologetic. “I’m really sorry.”

“Tonight? Why not?”

Devan was avoiding her gaze, staring at the two thick binders he was holding. “Mr Baratheon wants me to study some material on collective bargaining and teacher’s union, to prepare for the debate. He wants both an oral and a written report.”

“The debate is three weeks from now. And you still have the rest of the weekend to finish the report, even if we go out tonight,” Shireen pointed out.

“He wants my report tomorrow, not on Monday.”

Shireen narrowed her eyes. “Tomorrow is Saturday.”

Devan shrugged. “He said he’s too busy on Monday. Department meeting, disciplinary board hearing.”

“My dad has been watching too many Friday Night Lights episodes is what it is,” Shireen grumbled. “Coach Taylor suddenly giving Matt Saracen new plays to learn so Matt wouldn’t have time to go out with his daughter … remember that episode? Seems like your debate coach has been stealing a page from Coach Eric Taylor’s playbook.”

Devan looked skeptical. “Mr Baratheon is not like that. He would never abuse his position for personal reasons,” he said, loyal to the end.

Shireen laughed. “He doesn’t deserve you, Devan, he really doesn’t.” She paused, sounding bitter now. “Oh, I’m sure he’s telling himself right this very moment he’s doing it for all the right reasons. ‘ _Devan needs more practice,’_ or ‘ _we have so much material to cover._ ’ Nobody does self-deception like my father. He should win gold in the Olympics.”

Devan was looking at Shireen with concern. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it. We don’t have to go out tonight. I’ll come to your house and help you with that report.”

“You don’t have to, I mean –“

“I want to,” Shireen said, sealing the deal with a kiss.

“You don’t suppose … your dad … you don’t suppose he’s seen that  _other_  episode?” Devan asked, when their lips finally, reluctantly, parted.

“Which one? The one where Matt  _deflowered_ Julie by the lake?”

Devan looked away, suppressing a chuckle. “Oh man, that word …”

“Hey, I was only quoting Julie Taylor,” Shireen said. “No, which one?”

“The one where Coach Taylor found Matt and Julie in bed,” Devan replied.

“Don’t worry. That will never happen to us.”

“Because your father would never barge in unannounced into someone else’s home?” Devan asked, sounding hopeful.

“No, because we would never be as careless as Matt and Julie. Not locking the bedroom door? In the middle of the day? Come on!” Shireen scoffed, sounding suspiciously like her father at that moment. “Forget about Julie’s father, what if Grandma Saracen had walked in on them?”

Devan looked horrified at first. Then he smiled. “I don’t know … Grandma Saracen seems like a Matt/Julie shipper to me. She’d probably take it better than Coach Taylor did.”

Shireen smiled. “Hey, you used that word I taught you … s _hipper._ ”

“Your father would disapprove. That’s not a real word, he’d say.”

“You know what? I bet my father would disapprove of  _a lot_  more than just our choice of words,” Shireen replied, planting another kiss on Devan’s lips.


	5. Chapter 5

**For the prompt: “This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”**

“A _podcast_? You think we should do a _podcast_?” Shireen asks, disbelievingly.

“Sure. Why not? It’s all the rage these days. _Serial, Welcome to the Night Vale_ , people can’t get enough of them. There’s even a podcast about the _Serial_ podcast.”

Shireen narrows her eyes. It reminds Devan of her father. “What exactly would we be podcasting about?”

“Books.”

“A book review podcast?”

“More like a book club. An audio book club.”

“A book club? You can’t have a club with just two members. We should invite more people. Maybe Edric would like to join.”

“Edric. Yes. Sure.” He should have thought of that. They’ve always done most things together, the three of them. Why didn’t he think of that this time?

Shireen is looking at him strangely. Did his voice lack enthusiasm talking about her cousin? Flustered, he says, brightly, “We’ll ask Edric. I’m sure he’d love to join us.”

Shireen reconsiders. “Edric won’t want to do it. He doesn’t rate podcast at all. He thinks it’s a waste of time listening to people nattering and blathering instead of listening to music.”

“We can invite different guests for each episode.”

“ _Guests. Episodes_. You’re really serious about this.”

“Yup.”

 “Hmm.”

“Well? What do you think?”

“This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had.”

“So … are you in?”

“Of course I’m in. In fact,” Shireen smiles, mischievously, “I think we should invite my father as our first guest.”

“Your father?”

“You know how he’s always going on and on about how this author is guilty of self-aggrandizement, how that author is only interested in playing up his own supposed heroism and not in the truth. My father would be the _perfect_ guest for nonfiction books, memoirs and autobiographies especially.”


	6. Chapter 6

**For the prompt: “I don’t want to be the sister you never had.”**

_Shiera_ , she told him, that was the name of the sister she wished she had, wished for so fervently she could have sworn Shiera was made flesh and blood, conjured out of the half-waking dreams of a lonely child.

 _Betha_ , he told her, that was the name of the sister he never knew, the little girl born between Matthos and himself, the one who only lived for half a day, the first child born to Lady Marya and Ser Davos the landed knight instead of Marya and Davos the smuggler.

 _Think of me as your sister_ , she told him, after he lost four brothers and perhaps a father too, as he brooded over the uncertain fate of his mother and two remaining brothers. _Think of me as your sister and tell me all your sorrow and your fear._

 _Think of me as your brother,_ he told her, after she lost both mother and father, all that remained of her family, all the family she ever truly knew. _Think of me as your brother and tell me all your sorrow and your fear._

 _I never wanted a brother_ , she lashed out furiously. _Look what having brothers wrought for my fathers and his brothers._

 _Then think of me as your sister,_ he told her,  _the sister you never had but always dreamed of. Think of me as your sister and tell me all your sorrow and your fear._

She laughed amidst her tears. _How could you be my sister?_

 _I could be anything you want,_ he said. _Anything you need_ , he thought.

 _I only want you to be as you are, my dearest friend,_ she said.

Later, years later, in a sudden fit of recklessness after years of hesitation, he said,  _I don't want to be the sister you never had._

She took his hand and said,  _I never wanted to be the sister you never knew._


End file.
